Dream A Little Dream Of Me
by TheDoctorsConstantCompanion
Summary: Allison Argent, who was ripped from life too early, is returned to the land of the living with no idea how or why. With a message for Isaac, the pair must figure out what brought her back, what are the consequences of upsetting the balance, and if their love will be enough to keep her alive. / Picks up after 3b, before 4.
1. Darkness

Everything was black.

Allison couldn't breathe. She couldn't see, hear, or feel _anything_. She could turn to try and see around her, to catch a glimpse of something, but she wasn't in her body. She was just... floating. She tried to take a deep breath, trying anything to calm herself, but there was no air to take in. She couldn't call for help; she had no voice. She was completely, and utterly alone.

Or was she? Even in the nothingness, there was something. Like she was just waiting here, there was something else beyond the darkness. But where was here? And where was there?

Trying to think this through, Allison tried to separate herself from the situation. She closed her eyes, or tried to anyway, and thought desperately about the last thing she could remember.

"It's okay."

It was her voice. Her own voice. Allison looked up, and suddenly she was looking up into the eyes of the person who was cradling her body in his arms. She still couldn't feel anything as she remembered the words she'd spoken, and felt her mouth moving along with them.

"It's okay. It's okay. It's perfect. I'm in the arms of my first love. The first person I've ever loved. The person I'll always love." Even now, wherever she was, she knew she'd meant those words. "I love- I love you, Scott Mc-"

She was choking on her own blood now. She could feel it bubbling up onto her lips. The metallic taste filled her senses, starting to black out her vision while she stared up into the eyes of her former lover, but she managed to get out her last words.

"Scott McCall."

And suddenly she was back. Back in the void, trying to gasp for air to stop from crying even though she knew that here she couldn't do either.

Allison Argent was dead.

Now she was here. Surrounded by nothing. Waiting for a next step that might never come. She didn't really believe in anything, in God or in fate, so she had no idea what to expect. Whether she'd be met with the pearly gates of Heaven or the less appealing gates of Hell. Or maybe she'd be stuck here, forever; conscious and thinking but nothing more. She hoped that wasn't the case. The thought of being on her own for eternity seemed lonely and boring.

But maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't be alone. Maybe she could find others, other souls who'd passed onto whatever this place was. Her mother might be out there. And Kate. Allison wasn't sure that she actually wanted to see either of them again, but a familiar face would be worth it's weight in gold to her right now. Or a familiar consciousness. How would she even recognize anyone? Maybe she'd just know. She was resigned to just take whatever came to her at this point.

That's when she heard it. A static buzzing noise, like an old television being turned on that still hadn't found reception for a channel to play. She turned to see almost exactly that. Only ten feet in front of her appeared a rectangle, the size of a regular flatscreen t.v., which was displaying that black, white, and gray fuzz as it tried to focus into a picture. She willed herself forward, approaching the rectangle until she was right in front of it. It truly had appeared out of nowhere. Peering around it she saw nothing, no source or plugs or anything that could have caused it. It just... existed. Like her.

She moved back in front of the 'screen' as a view came into focus. She could hear voices that she recognized. The shapes sharpened as she took in what lay before her. Her death scene.

It was like looking down as a bird from a lamppost. She could see herself being hugged tight in Scott's arms. Her own hand had just hit the cement, falling as her eyes stared upwards aimlessly. Her life must have just left her body, leaving nothing but a corpse for the boy to hold.

She saw Kira, dropping her sword onto the ground and hesitantly taking a step forward, afraid to approach and disturb the scene.

She could hear something, a scream from miles away. A scream that could only belong to a powerful banshee, Lydia. Allison's heart twisted at the thought of her best friend, not seeing but _knowing_ that she was gone. Shifting her gaze to distract from the pain of missing her, she saw the only other person that could make being dead worse.

Isaac. His hands were on his head, grabbing fistfuls of hair as he bared his teeth. Not his wolf ones, his human mouth was clenched tight as he appeared to be struggling not to cry. He was failing, though. There was already one tear sliding down his cheek, glinting in the moonlight, and more were threatening to spill out of his shining eyes. Allison wanted nothing more than to be there for him, to help him, to show him that everything was going to be okay even though it really wasn't. He would have to make it through this on his own. She could hear his ragged breaths, even from this far away.

What was this? Why was she being shown this terrible thing? As if being dead wasn't enough, she just had to be shown how it affected those that she loved?

They say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. This must be it. She was going to see her life displayed on this 3' by 4' screen. She didn't know if she could handle it. She wanted to turn away, she didn't need to see her mistakes again. But this might be her only chance to see those that she loved again. So she continued to watch as the vision blurred as if it was rewinding an old tape.

In front of her was a scene between Scott and her dad. She hadn't even thought of him yet. Her already twisted heart managed to wrench some more as she thought of how he was truly alone now. He's already lost so much, and now he didn't even have her. If she had a body right now, she really would be crying. Strength be damned, she was leaving so much behind and hurting so many people.

Even in her current state of mind, wrought with confusion and regret and sorrow, she couldn't figure out why she was being shown this scene. She hadn't been there.

"What are you going to tell them?" She already missed the sound of her father's voice.

Allison listened as Scott recited words that her father must have just spoken, repeating them with a dead voice and expressionless face. He was talking about... her. And the police. This happened after she died. Why would she be seeing something she wasn't alive for? She had so many questions and no one to answer them for her.

The vision blurred again and she saw Lydia, alone on her bed, silently crying and holding one of her arrows. Again the scene changed, back to Scott. He was being comforted by his mom. And another time it blurred, like it was fast forwarding through the aftermath of her death. Or was it showing her events in real time? She couldn't tell how time worked in this place. She saw the screen focus in a bustling airport. Her father and Isaac were showing their passports, walking through a gate. Both of their faces were grim and they weren't talking. It was still too soon. She struggled to read the words on the screen but managed to make out their destination; Paris. They were leaving. Leaving her behind in Beacon Hills.

The imaged changed one last time, to her grave in the Beacon Hills Cemetery. She recognized the graves next to hers, of her mother and her aunt. It was too dark for her to make out the inscriptions, but she didn't want to know what her father had chosen to say about her. She couldn't take it.

She tried to turn away again, to leave this screen behind her, but she couldn't. She was locked in place, forced to watch what she herself had left behind. Forced to think of endless 'what ifs?'. What if she'd tried the silver arrow earlier? What if she'd moved just a step earlier, avoiding the blade of the Oni? What if she and her father had kept their promise to each other to leave the supernatural world behind?

Allison knew that that had never really been an option. She couldn't just sit back and let Scott take care of everything. She had to be there, to help and protect those who couldn't protect themselves. It was in her blood. And besides, if she'd left after the whole Gerard incident, she would never have gotten to have the short time with Isaac that she did. The tension, the black-light dancing, the _loving_. Life was better when she actually had the chance to live.

"But it isn't over yet."

Still trapped in front of the screen, Allison tried to turn to see who, or what, had just spoken. The voice came from behind her, a voice which was so loud and seemed to crack into the quietness of the place. The screen was dark, still showing the image of her tombstone, so when she saw the source of the voice come around to exist beside her she was almost blinded. That would be, if she really had eyes to blind.

It was a person, but not a person. They had the basic shape of a human; a head, torso, arms, and legs. But they were completely aflame. Flames licked around each of the limbs, covering every inch of the body. It didn't even seem like there was an actual body underneath the fire. She could see through the flames, see the darkness on the other side. It didn't have any sort of face, but she could feel it looking at her.

The flaming figure reached out towards her, it's arm ending in a flaming hand with fingers that were about to touch whatever it is that she was. She could almost feel the warmth radiating from it. She longed to feel it burn her, so she could actually feel something. And then it's fingers found what they were looking for. And she _could_ feel. It's heat was almost unbearable as it's hand pressed up on the back of her.

"Say hello to Isaac for me." It's head tilted and, despite it's lack of facial features, she could swear it was smiling at her. Without the chance to even process what it'd said, the pressure behind her increased and she was pushed straight into the screen, right into the image of her own grave.

Everything went black again. She was falling down, further and further into the darkness until she landed, lying on something soft.

Allison finally drew in a breath.


	2. Unearthed

The air that Allison was gasping in was dry and stale as she tried turning her head to figure out where she was. For a moment she thought she might still be in the void; everything was dark and there was no sign of anyone else with her. But she quickly pushed the thought from her head as she could feel her body lying against something. She had fingers and toes and everything in between. She smiled into the darkness as she tried to stretch out her arms and legs, everything felt so stiff, but was stopped before she could really move.

Confused, she moved her fingers along what had stopped her. Whatever it was felt silky and plush, and when she pushed down on it she was met with resistance as if the fabric was covering something hard. Moving her hands above her head she followed the barrier which seemed to box her in. A worrying thought entered her mind. When she brought her hands up in front of her, her fears were confirmed.

She was in her casket.

Allison struggled to keep her breathing slow, suddenly faced with the reality that she had to conserve her energy and oxygen. Tears threatened to spill out of her eyes as she looked into the nothingness, her hands still placed against the lid containing her the small space.

"Breathe, Allison, just breathe." She dared to say out loud. Being able to hear her own voice for real comforted her a little, enough to clear her mind enough to assess the situation. Applying as much pressure as she could, she tried pressing up against the lid. It didn't move.

So, she was buried. Six feet under ground. She wasn't all that surprised, considering she'd just come to terms with the fact that she was dead. But now she wasn't, and she had to get out.

Bringing her hands down to feel what she had at her disposal, to find anything that could help her, Allison could tell what she'd been buried in. Her simple black button-up cardigan and black eyelet dress. She wondered who had chosen her outfit, her father? Maybe Lydia had taken it upon herself to at least make sure she went out in style. Whoever it was obviously didn't think she'd be coming back; there was nothing in the pockets, nothing useful or of sentimental value. She brought her hands back down to her sides and thought hard.

She was strong, but didn't have a whole lot of space. If she kicked hard enough, she could probably break through the wood above her since there was already so much weight for it to bear, but then she'd be covered in dirt and unable to breathe. Now that she had a steady flow of oxygen, even for a small amount of time, she really didn't want to go back to that whole 'not breathing' thing again. If only she had something she could cover her face with so she at least wouldn't have to worry about breathing in dirt while she fought her way to the surface. Out of habit, she began tugging at her sleeve as she nervously searched for an answer.

Her cardigan! Maneuvering her way in the limited space, she took off the sleeves and brought the sweater up to her face. Flipping it upside down, she kept her head in the neck hole and brought up the rest of the garment above her head. Starting at her neck, she buttoned up the cardigan until she reached the top of her head. Taking the sleeves in her hands, she tied a knot around the remaining fabric so nothing would be able to fall down the other hole. She withdrew her hands and shook her head a little to test her makeshift mask. Perfect.

Now she just had to break the lid. Hopefully her father hadn't invested in a coffin that was too good of a quality (words she never thought would ever cross her mind) so she could get through it easier. There was only about a foot of space above her body, just enough space to try some quick, sharp kicks.

"Now or never," Allison mumbled into her sweater, desperate to be out. With one more deep breath, she braced her self as she began pounding at the lid with her foot. At least they'd buried her in her favourite boots, so she didn't have to worry too much about how much this was going to hurt. If she'd been buried in her flats, she'd be dead. Again.

The lid of the casket let out a creak and she sighed in relief. She kept throwing her foot up against the fabric with tore easily, and soon dirt began to spill into the coffin. She couldn't see it through her sweater, but the smell of earth and the soft pattering of it against the silk was unmistakeable. Giving it one last good kick to make sure the wood was certainly broken, she wriggled around so her head was under the hole she'd made. Now, the really hard part.

Feeling with her hands, she found she'd made a hole about a foot around in size. The wood was so splintered she could easily make it a foot wider with just her hands, snapping off a few pieces at a time. More dirt began falling onto her. She must not have been buried too long; the dirt was only now starting to settle, becoming less loose earth and more packed. Within minutes she was able to sit up through the opening, dirt falling to occupy the space she was just in.

Reaching her hands up, she dug her fingers into the earth above her and started to pull it down while simultaneously pushing up from in the coffin. Slowly but surely, she managed to pull her torso out of the casket, her feet planting against the floor of it. Breathing wasn't easy, but she managed. This feeling of being surrounded only by the earth was worse than lying in her coffin. At least there she had space. Now she was completely encompassed by the ground with nowhere to go but up.

She kept pulling down the dirt from above her and pushing it down beneath her until she managed to stand. Hopefully she only had a few more feet to go before she reached the surface.

It was difficult. Most of her body was exposed to the ground because of her dress and the dirt was sticking to the sweat on her skin. But as she kept digging, kept pushing onward, she was happy despite how scared and uncomfortable she was. She could _feel_. She would never have guessed how much she would miss just being able to sweat and move and struggle to breathe.

Suddenly, her fingers felt cool and were no longer touching dirt. She'd hit the surface. With a new surge of energy, she kept clearing her way until she was able to find a grip on the grass above her, pulling herself up and out of the earth.

Allison was out. She collapsed onto the grass, ripping her cardigan off of her head and taking deep, gulping breaths of the cool night air. She lay there for a few moments, taking in the smells that surrounded her, smells that she never thought she'd experience again. Freshly cut grass, flowers, and that fresh scent that always hung around on cold nights. She barely even registered how much she was shivering until she sat up, her breathing finally slow enough for her to concentrate on herself and what was around her.

Looking up at the sky, Allison saw the fat crescent of a moon which gave her light by which to see. The night was cloudless, giving the air around her that dry coolness which forced her to pick up her now-grimy sweater and tug it on quickly, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth. Turning her head, she was faced with the last image she'd seen back in the void, her tombstone.

_Allison Argent_

_ January 31, 1997 - March 17, 2014 _

_ Lover, Daughter, Friend_

Allison stroked the words that were engraved in the hard stone. Of course, no mention of her bravery, her being a warrior. A normal description for a normal teenage girl who led a normal life until her tragic passing. Her father was still keeping her cover.

She was suddenly very aware of just how dry her throat was; how the empty pit in her stomach hadn't faded even though she was out of danger. Standing, she faced away from her grave and the hole she'd just emerged from and started to run towards the gates of the cemetery, forcing herself not to look back. Running felt amazing, she was finally able to warm up her muscles which probably hadn't been used in weeks. Her dress flapped against her legs in the wind she was creating, her lips instinctively drew up into a smile as she felt her freedom. That was, until she was stopped by the very locked up gates in front of her. Shrugging her shoulders, she hoisted up her leg so her boot could lock onto the first line horizontal bars. Breaking out of a cemetery wasn't the craziest thing she'd done tonight.

Landing on her feet on the other side after a quick jump, Allison realized that she had no idea where to go from here. Looking down the road in front of her all she saw was the empty street, streetlights tinging everything with yellow. Her dad wasn't here, he wasn't even in the country any more. That is, if what she saw in the void was true. And that would mean Isaac was gone as well. She had no way of communicating with them, not without finding someone else first. There was only one other person whose instincts she trusted enough to be the first to find out she was alive. One person who might believe what she had to say.

Her legs carried her down the sidewalk, block by block, with barely instruction from Allison until she was standing in front of the door of a house. She had no idea what time it was or if anyone was home, but lifted her hand to rap on the door anyway. It was wrenched open before her knuckles had a chance to hit the wood. He'd probably heard her heart beat from the moment she rounded corner onto his street, smelled her as she walked up the steps of his porch. She was staring into the eyes of Scott McCall once again.


	3. Cleansed

"Hi?"

Allison waved quickly with a hand as she spoke, trying to break the silence. She could hear how hoarse her voice sounded and felt the dryness in her throat; she really needed to drink something. And eat something. But she wouldn't be able to do anything until Scott responded, which didn't seem likely to happen any time soon. He was still standing in the doorway, one hand clenching the the door as he kept it propped open. His mouth was slightly open as he just stared at her, emphasizing how uneven his jawline was. It would be adorable, if she weren't desperate.

"Could I come in?" She prompted, twisting her hands together in front of her and peering into the house. Scott nodded slowly and stepped to the side, letting her in. She thankfully crossed the threshold and then turned back to look at him as he closed the door behind her; he hadn't looked away for a second. He was gazing at her as if she would disappear if she got out of his sight. Finally, he seemed to find his voice as he cleared his throat and spoke.

"You're..." He struggled to find the words, still taking her in. "Alive?"

"I think so," Allison nodded, wincing as she tried to smile to comfort him. Every muscle was still so stiff, her expression was more of a grimace as she moved her features. "Is your mom home?"

"She's on a night shift," Scott said, shaking his head. Well, there goes a medical opinion. She'd just have to wait to see if everything was working. For now, she'd have to take care of what she could.

"Could I get a drink of water?" She asked, pointing to the kitchen.

"Oh, uhm, of course," He finally wrenched his eyes away from her as he headed to grab a glass from the cabinet. After filling it up with water from the tap, he handed it to her, his gaze now looking at her hand which gratefully grasped the cool cup. "Did you- did you have to- I mean, your hands are..."

"Hmm?" Allison was barely listening now. As soon as the glass was in her hands she brought it up to her cracked lips, the water moistening everything as she gulped at it unabashedly. Licking her now moist lips, she lowered the empty cup and followed his sightline to her hands. Her nails were bloody and broken, the red polish that had adorned them since she'd died was chipped and coated in brown. Dirt was clinging to them and streaking up her fingers and arms.

Now that she was at least partially quenched, she could see what Scott was seeing. Her entire body was coated in dirt, her dress ripped and her legs were cut in some places. Looking up and around, she caught her reflection in the window of the dining room. Her hair was wild and also had clumps of dirt caught in it. The worst part was when she met her own eyes mirrored at her. Not that there was anything different about them, they were still that deep chocolate brown that she'd grown to love despite hating them as a child. No, they were simply crazed. She blinked, trying to rid the look from her face, but no matter what she did the look remained the same. Well, she had been through quite the ordeal. Perhaps normal wasn't in the cards for her until later.

"Oh," She said simply, turning away from her reflection and back towards Scott. "Yeah, I had to dig my way out. It's actually easier than you'd think."

Scott gave her a weak smile as he dropped his eyes to the ground, deep in thought.

"Not that I'd ever want to do it again," She continued, returning the smile. The more she tried to move her face, the easier it was getting. "But Scott-"

He looked back up at her, his eyebrows furrowed against his forehead. He waited for her to continue.

"It's me." Allison had her guesses about what he was thinking. She'd be skeptical too, if her dead ex showed up on her front step in the middle of the night. "It's really me. At least, I'm pretty sure it is. Listen to my heart, you know I'm not lying."

Scott turned his head slightly. She could tell that he was listening and she knew what he was hearing; a steady heartbeat. Most people wouldn't be able to tell the pace of their own heart without taking a pulse, but once you've felt it come to a complete stop, you tend to be a little more aware (and a little more thankful) of it's constant thudding in your chest.

"Come upstairs," Scott gestured towards the stairway. He seemed a little more trusting now. "You should probably get cleaned up."

Allison made her way up the stairs, familiar with the layout of the house, and found herself in his room. It was comforting, being somewhere she knew. Smelling his scent, seeing the signs of life strewn about. Clothes were everywhere, his lacrosse stick just lying on the floor. It was a home. Not hers, but a home all the same.

"You can shower if you'd like," He opened the adjoining bathroom door for her. "It'd be easiest. There's extra towels in the linen closet and I can grab some of my mom's shower stuff so you don't smell like a guy."

"That'd be lovely, thanks," She stepped into the bathroom and grabbed one of the plush towels from the cupboard while Scott left the room. He was back within the minute, arms full of bottles. He set them down on the edge of shower and the straightened up to face her. Allison was suddenly very aware of how small his bathroom was as they stood looking at each other. She averted her eyes, uncomfortable, and crossed her arms across her chest. He took the hint, fumbling over his own feet as he stepped out into his bedroom.

"Are you hungry?" Scott asked, scratching his neck and looking away. "I mean, it's been a month since you last ate, so..."

Allison whipped her eyes back to his, startled.

"How long?" She demanded. "How long has it been?"

"Just over a month now," Scott's eyes went wide as he registered her reaction.

"Oh," It took her a moment to take in the information. It had been longer than she'd thought. She must've been already been starting to rot down there. "Sorry, I just- I didn't know. And sure, something to eat sounds good to me."

Scott eyed her warily before turning to go down to the kitchen. Allison closed the bathroom door after him then reached down to turn on the shower. She let it run as she undressed, peeling off her cardigan and dress. They were so grimy and tattered, they'd have to be thrown out. Hopefully Scott would have something to cover her with when she was finished.

The sound of the water running next to her faded as she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her first, clear look at herself, and all she can see is the scar. The one put there when the Oni's blade had pierced right through her body, tearing the skin and cutting through everything until it reached the other side. Twisting her torso, Allison could see the twin scar on her back, where the blade had entered. The scars were jagged, but neatly sewn up. The wound never had a chance to heal, but since she was dead the mortician could take his time fixing her. She almost laughed, running her fingers along the rough edge. This had killed her and now she was back. She wondered if it would heal over now that she was alive again. She decided not to dwell on it for the moment, and continued undressing.

After discarding her undergarments, which thankfully weren't too damaged in the incident, she stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain closed behind her. As the hot water hit her skin, she shuddered. She was still so cold, she rubbed at her arms to bring feeling into them. When that didn't work, she focused on getting herself clean instead.

As steam started to fill the room, she became painfully aware of just how bad she smelt. Be it the sweat, the dirt, or the lingering stench of rotting, it was terrible. She couldn't get the body wash on her body fast enough.

She scrubbed and scrubbed the dirt, watching it fall away and swirl down the drain. When she bent down to handle her legs, she saw something odd. The scrapes that she must've gotten from the cracked edges of her coffin as she struggled out of her grave were leaking. A scent was wafting from them, different from her own and that of the lemony body wash. It was harsher, like a chemical. What should have been blood pouring from her wounds was more viscous and amber in colour.

It was embalming fluid. She could tell. She'd never seen it in action before, but she recognized the smell of it from the funeral home. It was strong, it filled your nose and let nothing else in. Now that her heart was pumping, her own blood must have been pumping out what had replaced it when she was on the mortician's table. The thought disturbed her, she could see herself lying there against the stainless steel. Cold. Alone. Like a hallucination she'd once had, after she'd almost died with Stiles and Scott. Her aunt was there.

Pushing the image from her mind, Allison splashed some water against the scrapes and covered them up with suds from the soap. She couldn't deal with this right now, so instead she focused just on getting clean. Within the next few minutes, her skin felt and looked as good as new.

Her hair was a different story. The dirt had knotted it everywhere, almost creating a multitude of dreadlocks on her head. She was thankful it wasn't as long as it used to be, but it still took a long time of washing and tugging to free her hair of all the earth that had gotten caught in it.

Turning off the shower, Allison stepped out onto the bath mat and wrapped herself up in her towel. After a quick search in the bathroom cabinet, she found an old box of bandages that she used to cover the still leaking cuts on her legs. She was lucky Scott had speedy healing powers, he no longer needed his first aid kit which left plenty of supplies for her.

Pushing her wet hair behind her ears, she put her bra and underwear back on before re-wrapping herself in the towel. Her dress and sweater were lying in the garbage; she hoped she'd never have to see her death clothes again. Making sure the towel was snug under her arms, she opened the door.

Scott was perched on the edge of his bed, staring down at the plate in his hands. He seemed lost in some terrible thoughts as his knuckles were turning white as they gripped the sides of the plate. Allison cleared her throat and he seemed to shake himself out of whatever trance he was in as he looked at her. When his eyes met hers, they were shiny, like he'd been trying not to cry.

"What kind?" Allison pointed to the sandwich that was dangerously close to the edge of the plate he was holding.

"Just ham and cheese, all I could find." He offered the plate to her, standing up.

"That sounds amazing," She smiled at him. She wanted to reassure him that everything was okay, but she couldn't. "But first..."

She looked down at herself and tugged at the edge of the towel. Scott's eyes widened as he realized that she was only in the towel, then quickly looked away. He rushed to his set of drawers and pulled out a shirt and pajama bottoms, holding them with his arm outstretched as he faced away from her. She let out a soft laugh as she grabbed the clothing from him. She stepped back into the bathroom and quickly dropped her towel and put on the clothes. The shirt was ridiculously large on her slender frame, but the fabric was soft against her skin. She had to pull on the strings of the pajama pants and tie them tightly to make sure they stayed up. It would have to do.

As she pushed the sleeves of the shirt up her arms so they didn't hang over the tips of her fingers, she was reminded again of a time in her past. The first time she was alive. It was the second time she'd met Scott, after she'd ran over a dog in the rain. How she'd fallen in love from the start. She was a different girl back then. She'd changed so much, for so many reasons. Who knew how being dead was going to affect her now. There was only one way to find out.

Stepping back out of the bathroom, Allison sat down on the edge of his bed and picked up the sandwich that was waiting for her there. She wasted no time digging her teeth into it, relishing in the flavour and thankful to finally have something of substance in her system.

"It's safe now, you know," She said, her mouth still full of sandwich. She covered her mouth with her hand as she swallowed the rest of that bite, only slightly worried about manners at the moment. She cleared her mouth before she spoke again. "This is delicious, thank you."

Scott had turned back towards her and smiled, his eyes clear again. He joined her on the bed, watching her wolf down the rest of the sandwich. It was gone in no time, and after she set the plate down on the floor, she wiped her lips with the edge of her sleeve to get rid of the crumbs.

"Sorry about that," Allison said, slightly embarrassed.

"No, no, don't worry," Scott was adamant, reaching out to take her hand in his. "Whoa."

She knew exactly what he meant as he said it. His skin was fiery compared to hers. The shower, as relaxing as it was, had done nothing to warm her up. Her skin was still cold as ice. She drew back her hand, folding them together in her lap.

"I suppose you want to know what happened," She stated.

"Well, yeah," He admitted. "But only if you're ready."

"There's not much to it," Allison stared off, seeing nothing as she spoke. "I don't really know what happened. It just... did."

Scott didn't respond. He just waited patiently for her to continue.

"The last thing I remember was dying. Obviously. The Oni got me and then I died in your arms." She closed her eyes so she couldn't see the look on Scott's face. As horrific as that had been for her, she couldn't imagine what it was like for him. Or anyone else there. One other person in particular. "Then there was nothing. I was in this total darkness. At least, I think I was."

Now that she was away from her grave and time had passed since her rising, it was becoming harder and harder for her to remember what had happened to her after she died. Like trying to recall a dream after you've been awake for a while. But worse, because it wasn't a dream.

"All I remember was I wasn't alone," She knew that for sure. The thing that brought her back was imprinted in her mind's eye, a brightness in the dark. "This... figure, made of fire, said something to me and then pushed me. Somehow, it brought me back."

She was silent for a moment, still struggling to remember. Scott reached over and put his hand on her back, careful not to touch her skin. But she could still feel his heat through the fabric, and was sure that he could feel her coolness through it as well.

"Do you know what it said?" Scott prompted after a few more minutes of silence.

"It was a message," She let it out on a breath as she remembered. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "For Isaac. It wanted me to say 'Hi' to him."

The two of them sat, more time passing in silence. His hand was still resting on her back. It was comforting, but not the hand that she wanted right now.

"Scott," She finally opened her eyes and turned towards him. "What did Isaac do?"

"I don't know," Scott seemed as worried as she was.

"Have you talked to him? At all? Since..." Her voice broke off as she searched his eyes for an answer, any answer.

"Once or twice. He's in France with your dad," He spoke slowly, not knowing that she already knew that. "They've kind of cut themselves off from us."

"Is there any way to contact him?" Allison was desperate. Her worst fears were creeping into her mind, worsening every second. What could Isaac have done to bring her back? And at what cost?

"Uhm, I could try and Skype him," Scott's eyes traveled to his computer which sat open on his desk. "But considering it's 1 am here... it's probably..." His eyes unfocused as he tried to do the math in his head. It took him a couple tries, but eventually he got it. "8 am where he is. I doubt he's awake."

"Scott!" She stood up, spinning so that she was towering over him where he sat on his bed. "Text him, email him, anything! Just... find a way!"

"Okay, okay," Scott rose to his feet and she moved out of his way. He walked towards his desk where his phone lay beside his computer, picking it up and typing a quick message. "I just asked him if he was okay, and if we could talk soon. But I doubt we'll hear from him for a couple hours."

"Okay," Allison could feel her heart racing in her chest. She tried to slow down her breathing, her mind all over the place.

"Allison," Scott walked back to where she was standing and rested his hand on her arm. "You should get some sleep. I'm sure Isaac wouldn't do anything too stupid, and we would have heard if something had happened to him. You need some rest, you look-"

Allison raised her eyebrows as he swallowed the words he was about to speak.

"Dead on my feet?" She provided, filling in the rest of his sentence. He grimaced and shrugged. "I've had about a month to sleep, I think that's long enough."

"Sorry," He dropped his arm and headed towards the door of his bedroom. "But you do need some proper rest. It's the only thing you can do right now. And, well, I need sleep too." He smiled, his eyes tired.

"Of course," Allison nodded, suddenly feeling selfish. She'd brought all of this to him, and only him, in the middle of the night. She knew she hadn't really had a choice, but felt guilty all the same.

"Come on, I'll set you up in my mom's room. I'm sure she won't mind." Scott headed into the hallway.

"Wait," She called, still standing where she was in front of his bed. He reappeared in the doorway, looking at her with concern. "I don't think I can..."

"Be alone?" He finished the sentence for her as a question. She nodded. "Okay, let me just grab some blankets and I'll take the floor."

"No!" She insisted, still feeling the unnecessary guilt for this whole situation. She couldn't force him to sleep on the ground after all of this. "Your bed's big enough, I think we'll fit."

"Are you sure?" He finally took a step back into the bedroom.

"Of course," Allison insisted, nodding her head. Then she felt the need to clarify; "As friends, though."

"As friends," He nodded back at her, agreeing. He reached back into the hall and turned out the hall light.

Allison stepped around to the side of the bed and pulled back the covers, taking no time at all to snuggle up underneath the blankets. Being wrapped up with her head against a pillow made her miss her own bed, but she knew that wasn't possible now. And it was okay.

Scott turned out the light in the bedroom and she could hear him taking off his shirt before he made his way back to the bed. She knew that was how he slept normally and that it didn't mean anything, but she still inched herself a little closer to the edge of the bed to make sure they didn't touch. She heard his feet padding against the ground as he made his way to the bed, guided by the moonlight that was spilling through the window and casting the room in a light silver glow. She felt the blankets being lifted as he lowered himself into the bed along with her, the area instantly becoming warmer as he filled the space.

"Goodnight, Allison," Scott whispered from his side of the bed. From the sound of it, he was laying on his side and facing away from the middle. Just like she was.

"Goodnight, Scott," Allison felt the words escape her lips on a breath as she felt herself giving in to the sleep. She really was tired after all.

Within moments, the two of them were gone, taken away by slumber. They slept with their backs facing each other, but never touching, through the rest of the night and into the morning, when Scott's computer started to ring.


	4. Friends

The next morning came much too early as the sun illuminated the bedroom in a soft yellow glow. It wasn't the light that woke Allison up, however. It was the incessant ringing noise coming from somewhere in the far corner of the room.

Rolling over in the blankets for the first time since she'd laid down that night, Allison looked at her bedmate. Scott's mouth was gaping open as he lay on his back, breathing loudly and slowly. It felt so odd to her to be in such close proximity to him, the boy who held her dying body, and feel nothing but a friendly love towards him. She'd touched every inch of that boy at one point or another, but had to convince herself to reach out to him now. Even though a couple months ago she hadn't been sure she'd made the right choice in leaving him, her brush with death had made her priorities all to clear.

The ringing seemed to grow louder the longer it went on, shaking Allison out of her thoughts and back to the present. She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking him with what she hoped wasn't too much force.

"W-what?" Scott shot up to a sitting position, his eyes bleary but wild as he looked frantically around himself. The sight made her laugh as she drew her hand back and brought herself up onto her elbows.

"You have a call," Allison said, nodding her head towards the noise.

"Oh," He swung his legs quickly over the side of the bed and strode towards his desk. It was only when he picked up his phone, which was charging next to his laptop, that she realized it wasn't his computer that was making the noise. All hope of seeing Isaac or hearing his voice again was gone as Scott lifted the phone to his ear. There was no way Isaac would spend the money to call from Europe, not when he didn't know what was going on.

"Hello?" Scott's voice was low and thick from sleep. He drew his free hand up to his face to rub at his eyes as he listened to the person on the other side.

Allison couldn't hear who was on the end of the line, but her interest was piqued as Scott's expression changed from shocked to amused. She picked herself up off her elbows and sat up in the bed, hugging her knees to her chest as she watched the boy try not to laugh as he spoke on the phone.

"I'll be right there. Tell her not to worry, I think I know what happened." Scott brought the phone back away from his face and pressed once on the screen, ending the call.

"Well?" She prompted, eager to know what could have been so amusing at a time like this. She could use something happy right now.

"It was Stiles," Scott said, "He's with Lydia. Apparently she'd called him this morning, frightened out of her mind. She'd woken up in front of your grave. She thinks someone took you, or something."

"Oh," Allison tried to see the humour in the situation. "Why didn't you tell them the truth?"

"I thought it would be better if we showed them," Scott crossed to his dresser and started rummaging through his drawers, pulling out a shirt at random and yanking it over his head. It seemed he wasn't worried about changing in front of her anymore, since he followed up by tugging off his pajama pants and throwing on a pair of jeans. "I can't wait to see the looks on their faces when they see you."

"Uhm, Scott?" She said, trying her best not to look at him as he changed.

"Hmm?" He did up the button of his jeans and turned to face her.

"I don't have anything to wear," She looked down at the shirt she was wearing; his. As comfortable as it was to sleep in, she didn't think she should leave the house wearing it. Or his pants.

"Oh," Scott said, following her gaze to her outfit. "Well, I'm sure my mom might have something that would fit. C'mon."

He turned on the spot and headed out of his room, turning in the hallway towards his mother's room without looking back to see if Allison was following. She swung her own legs over the side of the bed and stretched slightly, still marveling at her own ability to move. Standing up, she threw her hands over her head and stretched even more. Her movement almost caused Scott's pants to fall from around her hips. Relaxing again, she grabbed the pants by the strings and pulled them tightly again before exiting to the room to follow Scott. Turning into the hall, she almost ran into him as he'd planted himself in the middle of it.

"Scott?" She stepped back and peered around him to see what he was looking at.

Mrs McCall was standing in the doorway of her own room, her mouth open as she stared at Allison over her son's shoulder. Her face looked almost exactly like Scott's had, just a few hours before. Allison had to stifle a laugh of her own; she'd always been so baffled by the likeness between the pair.

"Sorry, Mom," Scott said, moving so Allison was in better view. "I was going to warn you but..." He really didn't have an excuse. Instead, he just gestured towards the girl and gave his mom a small smile.

The older woman strode towards Allison carefully, as if any sudden movements might set off the younger girl. She couldn't blame her, considering she was supposed to be dead, and Beacon Hills was full of the supernatural. She could be some dangerous creature that mimics dead loved ones, or a vengeful spirit, or some other terrible thing that would feel at home in this area.

"Mrs McCall," Allison closed the distance between them. "It's okay. I'm me, as much as I can tell."

At that, the woman smiled. It was a brilliant smile which brought out the contrast against the tiredness of the rest of her face and the raggedness of her scrubs. She must have just finished a long night shift at the hospital.

"Of course you are," She shook her head a little and reached out her hand, taking Allison's arm in her light grip. "Do you mind?"

Allison wasn't sure what she meant, but nodded anyway. The mother's intentions became clear as she brought up her other hand to Allison's wrist, pressing two fingers against the tender skin there. It was silent for a moment as Scott and Allison watched Mrs McCall counting silently, her own eyes trained on her watch.

"Slightly slow, but regular," She concluded, releasing Allison's arm. She began to study the girl's face, looking into her eyes as if searching for irregularities or perhaps a different colour. "Do you feel any different?"

"I don't think so," Allison said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I mean, I'm a little cold but besides that, I'm good as new."

"I noticed that," Mrs McCall nodded as she listened, still studying her. "Probably just your body warming up again. Then again, I don't really have anything to compare this too, but that would be my best guess."

"Mom," Scott interrupted the impromptu health exam, glancing at his phone. "Do you have anything she could wear? She hasn't been home and her only clothes were ruined when she..."

He trailed off, not really sure if he should be bringing up her rising yet. That didn't seem to phase his mom though, since she turned around and headed back into her room, motioning for Allison to follow.

Within a few minutes Allison was fitted in a simple pair of blue jeans, a pair that Mrs McCall hadn't worn in years, and a soft black sweater. They didn't completely fit her, she was taller than the mother, but they worked much better than anything of Scott's could have.

"Thanks," Allison turned from the mirror she'd been assessing herself in to face Mrs McCall. Seeing the maternal look she was giving her, Allison suddenly ached for her own mom. She thought those kinds of feelings would stop with time, but standing here after everything she'd been through, she would have given everything to have her mother back.

Mrs McCall, though not entirely sure of the specifics, seemed to sense that there was something more going on in the young girl's head. It must be a mom thing. Opening her arms, she stepped forward and embraced Allison, who hesitated only for a moment before bringing her own arms up to return the hug. The touch cleared Allison's eyes, which she hadn't known were starting to brim over.

"Thank you," She repeated, drawing back from the embrace.

Scott appeared in the doorway of the room, knocking on the door as an afterthought.

"Ready?" He was twisting his phone in his hands.

Allison nodded, stepping away from Mrs McCall and into the hall. Quickly darting back into Scott's room, she put her own boots on and then returned to his side.

"Don't do anything too dangerous," Mrs McCall warned, leaning against her doorframe. "We don't want to lose you when we just got you back."

"Of course," Allison said, and Scott nodded beside her. The pair turned and made their way down the stairs. Once they were at the entryway of the house, she turned back to face him and lowered her voice. "Why didn't she ask what happened?"

Scott was silent for a second, not meeting her eyes, before he made his way to the kitchen and gestured for her to follow him. He opened the door of his pantry and drew out a couple granola bars and two bottles of water, handing one of each to her before he spoke again, still looking away from her.

"I guess it's because she still remembers how we all reacted after you died," He spoke in the same hushed tone that she had. "She knows that you being back is a gift, and doesn't want to question it."

"Oh," She hadn't thought about that. About how all her friends had been through the grieving process, and here she was.

"Alright, let's go," Scott tucked the water bottle under his arm, and ripped open the granola bar with his teeth as he used his free hand to pick up the keys that were resting on the counter. "Stiles and Lydia are probably still freaking out."

Allison tucked her own granola bar into her pocket and opened her water bottle as she followed Scott out of the house. Soon enough, they were in his car and speeding down the street, taking basically the same path that Allison had taken the night before to get to Scott's house.

"So," Allison cleared her throat, trying to lighten the mood as they passed through the familiar streets. "What did I miss?"

"What did you miss?" Scott glanced over at her as he drove, smiling. "Well, I don't even know where to start."

"I'm assuming Stiles is okay, considering you said he's freaking out?"

"Oh! I forgot you weren't there when we won. Yeah, I bit the Nogistune and Kira stabbed him." He said nonchalantly.

"Congratulations," She smiled, genuinely happy that Stiles was alright and that everything was okay now. She was struck with a thought from when she'd died, her final words, and had to ask: "Did you tell my dad? About what I'd asked you when I..."

"No," Scott said slightly ashamedly, "I didn't know what you'd meant. But Isaac and your dad figured it out. The silver arrowhead, right?"

Allison nodded her head, relieved that she hadn't died in vain (even if she did just end up coming back).

"Yeah, with out it, who knows how many more people would've been killed by the Oni."

The way Scott said that unsettled her. When she looked over at him, his eyes were still on the road and his face was grim.

"Scott," She started, worried about what she might hear. "Was somebody else killed?"

"Aiden." Scott glanced over at her, gauging her reaction. The blood drained from her face as she looked out the front window at the fast approaching cemetery.

"Poor Lydia." That was all she could manage as Scott parked the car in the small lot outside of Beacon Hills Cemetery. She couldn't imagine what her best friend had gone through; losing her and then her lover in a matter of days. So soon, after Jackson had left, too. She didn't say anything else as they got out of the car and headed towards the towering gates.

The gates to the cemetery were open, unlike last night, so they didn't have to hop the fence as they made their way to Allison's grave. An uncomfortable chill settled in her the closer they got to it, like they were approaching the scene of some terrible crime. It didn't seem to affect Scott as he walked several paces ahead of her. He seemed to know exactly where her tombstone was. She wondered how often she'd been visited as her body lay six feet underground.

It wasn't long until two figures came into few, one completely recognizable with her strawberry blonde hair which was swaying with the breeze. The other figure had one arm around her as they were both looking down at the ground in front of them. The pair didn't notice their company until Scott tapped on their shoulders, joining them at the foot of the grave. Allison waited a few steps back, unsure of how to go forward.

"Scott, what the hell?!" Stiles' voice was unsettling, so loud against the quiet of the place. He had turned, withdrawing his arm from the girl and was focused on Scott. "Why did we have to wait here, what the hell is going on?"

"Scott," Lydia turned, her hair swinging as she faced the Alpha that they were all seeking answers from. Her voice was shrill, her normally perfectly made-up face was streaked with tears. "I don't know what happened, I just woke up and her grave was like this. This only happens when someone dies, but that can't be the case here, so what's happening?"

Scott didn't say anything, he just turned and faced Allison who suddenly felt very exposed. Lydia and Stiles followed his gaze until their eyes fell on her. She stood there, tugging at the sleeve of her borrowed sweater as she watched their faces freeze in a mask of shock, mirroring each other with their wide eyes and open mouths. She'd been met with this expression too many times in such a short span of time, and yet she still didn't know what to do; how to react or make it easier for them. Instead, she just let them watch her until one of them made a move.

Lydia broke away from Stiles, whom she'd been clinging to moments before. She walked uneasily towards Allison, her face now almost expressionless. Allison watched how Lydia's face shone as the light from the rising sun hit it at different angles. Her tears had made clear tracks down her cheeks, but now her eyes were dry as they stared into Allison's. The other girl opened her mouth again, this time as if to speak, but no words made their way out. The Banshee was silent as she came to a halt in front of the Hunter.

"Lydia," Allison broke the silence, searching the eyes of her friend. For a moment, she was afraid that Lydia was angry with her, for dying and leaving her alone. But her fears were dashed as soon as they'd arrived when the redhead threw her arms around her, almost knocking her over with the how much force was in her hug.

"I thought I'd lost you forever," Lydia nuzzled her face into the taller girl's neck, squeezing tight. Allison returned the hug gratefully. This was different than when she'd been embracing Mrs McCall. Then, she was reminiscing the family she used to have. Now, she was just so thankful to be back with her friends.

"I'm sorry," Allison managed to say as Lydia finally pulled away, though their arms were still intertwined as they looked back into each other's faces. "I'm so sorry, Lydia. About Aiden and about me and about everything, I'm so, so sorry."

Lydia smiled and shook her head a little, tearing her gaze away from her friends for a moment to collect herself.

"You don't need to be," Lydia said firmly once she looked back up at Allison. Her smile faltered as she studied the other girl's face and felt the coolness of her hands. She looked towards Scott, then Stiles, and then back at Allison, confused. "But, how is this possible?"

Allison was unsure of what to say right away, so instead she released Lydia's hands and walked towards the disturbed grave where Stiles and Scott still stood. It was horrifying, seeing what she'd done in the night now illuminated by the sun.

The grass of the cemetery was perfect, it was definitely regularly well kept, but it was now blemished by an unsightly hole in the middle of the grave which appeared to have been made from underneath. The sod had been pushed outward and dirt spilled up and out from the whole. She could almost see her hand pushing through that surface mere hours before. She remembered how the earth had engulfed her as she fought to make her way out. It was too much. Allison turned around and faced the others again, her back to her past.

"I'm not sure," She said, mostly to Stiles and Lydia since Scott had heard this all before. "I remember dying, and then I was somewhere else, and now I'm back."

"Are you sure that's it?" Stiles provided, obviously trying to tread lightly while also making it obvious that he wanted more information.

"Well," Allison flicked her eyes towards Scott, who nodded. She drew in a breath and recounted what she'd said the night before, about the flaming creature and the message for Isaac. Again, the pair were speechless.

"I'm trying to get a hold of Isaac, but it's hard with the time difference and all," Scott said, trying to make some sense of the situation for the sake of the others.'

"I see," Lydia spoke up again, her own gaze still faraway as she registered the information.

"Look," Scott began, starting to coral them away from the grave. "We can figure this all out later, when we contact Isaac and Mr Argent. For now, we still have school."

"Uh," Allison said, walking with them towards the gates. "I'm technically still deceased."

"Right," Scott said, like he hadn't thought of that before. "We can stay with you then."

"No, no, don't worry about it," Allison insisted as her mind jumped to where she wanted to be. "Do you know if my dad sold our apartment?"

"No, I don't think so," Lydia said, "I'm pretty sure he kept it in case he ever wanted to come back. He didn't think he would stay away forever, he just needed a break."

"Okay," Allison now knew how she'd spend her day while her friends kept up their grades. "I'll head over there, then."

"Do you want me to drive you?" Scott suggested as they passed through the gates of the cemetery.

Before Allison could say that she was fine with walking, Stiles, who had been so quiet during this encounter (at least, for Stiles anyway), spoke up.

"I'll take her in the Jeep," He said, pointing towards where the powder blue monster was parked. "Lydia, you cool going with Scott?"

Lydia nodded before she approached Allison again, tugging her into another hug before stepping towards the passenger side of Scott's car.

"I'll see you right after school, okay?" Lydia's face was full of regret as she searched the face of her friend. It was obvious that she didn't want to leave her again so soon, but they both knew that now that she was back they had to continue on normally. As normally as they could, at least.

Allison gave her a thumbs up and her friend grinned at her before stooping to sit in the car. Scott also nodded towards her before he joined Lydia in his car, a slight smile still on his face. She watched as the pair of them backed out of their spot and then sped away, down the street and towards the high school. She turned to see that Stiles had already hopped into his Jeep and was waiting for her to join him.

It took a moment for her to figure out the seat belt for the older vehicle, and as soon as she was buckled in Stiles revved the engine and reversed. They turned onto the road and drove off in the opposite direction from the others, driving in silence.

As the minutes passed, Allison snuck a look at the driver. Stiles was obviously uncomfortable, his face locked in an expression of deep thought as he maneuvered his vehicle through the early morning traffic. As they stopped at a stop light, Allison took it upon herself to ask her burning question.

"Stiles," She started tentatively, "Why did you volunteer to drive me if you're not going to talk to me?"

Since he didn't have the excuse of having to pay attention to the road in front of him, Stiles looked back at her, his eyes full of pain. He struggled to come up with the words for an answer. It took him longer than the light, which had turned to green, so he started to drive forward and looked away again, his eyes focused on the pavement ahead. Allison was afraid that she'd never get a response when he finally opened his mouth, speaking without looking at her.

"I needed to apologize. It was my fault." He stated simply, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.

"What was?" Allison feared that she knew the answer, and couldn't imagine the weight he was bearing if it was true.

"You. Aiden. Everything." Stiles glanced back at her.

"That wasn't you," She tried reassuring him.

"But it was. I knew what was going on, and I didn't stop it in time. I let him in and you died because of it." His voice wavered, cracking slightly as if he had something caught in his throat.

"Stiles, pull over." Allison demanded. Her tone must have been stronger than she'd thought, because he looked over at her, obviously shaken, and brought the Jeep to a halt at the side of the road. Once the vehicle was stopped, she turned in her seat so she was facing him directly. "You, Scott, and I all had equal chances of being taken by the Nogitsune. Well, more you and I, since Scott isn't exactly human. But that doesn't matter, okay? It could have very well been me who caused bad things to happen, like people getting hurt. Or worse. But even if it was me, it wouldn't have been my fault, because I wouldn't be me. Even then, by the time I was killed, you and the Nogitsune were almost separated. You occupied different spaces, at least. Stiles, it wasn't your fault."

Stiles eyes were shut tight, his hands had fallen into fists in his lap. She reached over and placed one of her hands on his, her cool skin shocking against his warmth. The temperature seemed to shock him, as his eyes flew open and he looked over at her, surprised.

"You have nothing to apologize for, okay?" Allison squeezed his hand lightly and let her lips glide up into a smile. Being strong for the sake of others was something she was good at. And it seemed to work, as Stiles nodded his head and let out a deep sigh as if to clear his head and shining eyes.

He took his hand from under hers and started the Jeep again. It was only a few minutes before they pulled up in front of the apartment building that she'd only just become accustomed to calling her home before she'd died. As Stiles brought the car to stop in front of the doors, Allison turned back to him and reached over the seat to give him an awkward hug. It didn't seem to matter that they were both weirdly contorted, the touch was comforting all the same.

"Thank you," Stiles said, leaning back in his seat as they separated.

"No need," Allison smiled, one hand on the handle for the door.

"Are you gonna be able to get in?" He asked, looking up at the building through the dashboard window.

"I have the alarm code, and I've never really had difficulty getting into places when I put my mind to it." She stated, only half-joking. Stiles grinned back at her, and she turned to get out the Jeep.

"Wait," Stiles said, stopping her before she could open the door. "About what you said to Lydia... You don't have to be sorry either, you know that, right?"

Allison stayed where she was, ready to get out but unmoving.

"Allison, you didn't leave us. You saved us. Your silver arrowhead kept a lot of us safe before we got the Nogitsune. You've always been the one to save us in the end. And however you're got back here, we should be thankful, because we know you still have our backs. I know I'm thankful. Nothing's the same without you."

She was shocked. Stiles had never said anything so heartfelt to her before. She'd heard him spill out his heart to Lydia, and she remembered his speech to Scott back at the Glen Capri about them being brothers, but never before had their friendship felt so real.

Pulling on the handle, Allison let herself out. Jumping onto the pavement, she spun on her heel and looked back through the window as she shut the door. Mouthing a thank-you through the glass, she waved as Stiles nodded back towards her, understanding, and he drove off back towards the school.

She had never been more thankful for all of her friends than she was in this moment.


	5. Memoirs

It took only moments for Allison to get into her apartment. She knew that her father wouldn't have left much of value when he went to France, so only the simple lock attached to the doorknob was actually locked. The other locks that had adorned the inside of the door were just for show at this point in time. Having used the bobby pins she found in the pocket of Mrs McCall's jeans in the keyhole, the door swung open easily when she twisted the handle. All that was left was the alarm, which she was thankful that her father hadn't bothered to change either. In his grief he was determined and singular minded, she knew that if his intention was to leave, he wouldn't care what he left.

After punching in the code on the keypad by the door, Allison finally allowed herself to take a look at her former home. Walking through the hall, she approached her old bedroom and nudged open the already ajar door.

The room was intact, exactly the way she'd left when she'd headed out that cool March morning. Her bed was made, but it was obvious that someone had sat on it and caused the blankets to go askew and left an impression. Who it was, she didn't know, but she knew that they'd come in here to mourn her.

And what a place to do that. There were pictures, which had started to gather dust, of her and her friends, her and her family, all through out the room. On her nightstand, on her desk, on her dresser; all different little versions of her, smiling out to whomever wanted to see.

Allison made her way to the closet, pulling open the folding doors. Hangers full of clothing hung straight, packing the small space. Pulling a sleeve toward her face, she could start to smell the stale scent that had settled in the time they'd been untouched. Grimacing and stepping back, she grabbed a long polka dotted shirt and shook it out beside her, trying to get some air through the fabric, before setting it down on her bed. Moving to her dresser, she took out a pair of faded black jeans and some fresh undergarments, which she set down beside the shirt. She grabbed the bottom of her borrowed sweater and pulled it off over her head, letting it land unceremoniously on the floor beside her. The blue jeans and filthy bra and underwear followed, and now she standing totally naked in the middle of her old room.

Dressing in the outfit she'd laid out for herself, Allison rested her hands against her hips and looked down at herself, pleased. She was finally starting to feel like Allison Argent again, in her own clothes and in control of her own life. One last thing, though. She reached up and brought her knotted hair, which had been resting like a mop on her shoulders, up on top of her head and used an elastic from her dresser to pull the strands away from her face, creating a large bun on the back of her skull. She was put together again.

She made her way through the rest of the apartment after that, trying to piece together what had occurred there after she passed. Unfortunately, Chris had cleaned up pretty well. His room was spotless, the only thing different than she'd remembered was the empty closet and drawers which had once been full of clothing and hidden weaponry. The kitchen was also empty, save for a few spices in the cupboards and a hidden Twinkie in the panty. Even her father's office, which had been so full of life and mystery before, was packed up. There were some of his sonar emitters left, and a few guns were left in their cases, but all of his notes and maps and plans had been taken with him.

All of this proved to be quite disappointing to Allison, who'd hoped to see more signs that he'd intended on returning soon. Now, she had to trust that Scott had gotten a hold of her dad or Isaac and gotten them to rush back.

Finished with her tour, she walked back into her room and sat herself down in front of her desk. Moving a few of her books and journals, some of which she was sure someone had read once she'd gone, she found what she was looking for. Her own computer.

It took a few moments for it to start up, having been dormant for just under a month. As she waited for the bright screen to settle into something she could use, she thought about what her friends would be doing right at that second. Confused as they were, they were probably still able to get to and from each of their classes with no real difficulty. They'd be in Econ, listening to Coach pretend to teach and then spending the rest of the class playing Hangman on their notes. Or maybe they were in History, listening to Kira's dad actually teach. She couldn't remember their schedules after all this time, but she could remember enough to know that she missed it. She'd never thought when she moved to Beacon Hills that she would actually like it enough to not want to leave and go on to the next high school. Who knew.

Finally, her desktop appeared, ready to be used. It was a picture of her and the gang, back from her first year here. They all looked so young, Scott with his longer hair and Stiles with his short style. Lydia was gorgeous as ever as her arms were wrapped around the first person she'd loved, the first of the group to leave. She let herself live in the memory of the moment for only a second before opening up a web browser, determined to figure out just what the hell was going on.

She had every intention of opening up a translator, and then going up into her files to open up the Bestiary so that she could see if anyone had ever encountered the flaming creature from her time on the other side, but the sight of the websites she had bookmarked in the corner of the browser was too tempting. She opened up her Facebook account, which her computer was still logged in to, and was overwhelmed by the amount of notifications that were indicated by the red bubble on the top bar. When she clicked on it, she saw they were all from people posting on her wall, giving their condolences.

There were a lot of one liners, people saying that they hadn't known her too well but knew that she didn't deserve what had happened to her. They were people that were just faces that she vaguely remembered passing in the halls of Beacon Hills or her past schools, people that sure as hell didn't know her.

But then, as she scrolled through to earliest posts, she saw the ones that mattered. The messages from people who actually _had _known her, and had no other way to express themselves.

Lydia had posted a picture of the two of them at a party, one of the first pictures they had taken together, and had accompanied it with a message that brought Allison to tears. Obviously, Lydia couldn't say anything about her powers or the situation that brought about her best friend's death online, but she went on about how Allison had always been there for her when she didn't know who she was anymore, or when she didn't know if she was sane. It was beautiful.

Scott had also posted a picture, a scan of the ripped photo from their date at the ice rink. He wrote something that, in it's own way, was also quite beautiful. Scott didn't really have a way with words, but even in his awkward jilted sentences, he managed to express his memories and changed love for her in a way that made the tears that were already in her eyes threaten to spill over.

Stiles had written a shorter message than the other two, but was heartfelt all the same. It was heartbreaking and funny all at once, in just a few sentences, which described the boy completely. She cherished every word he wrote because she knew they all meant something.

And then, as she scrolled down as far as she could without getting back into her own postings, she saw the name of the person she'd sought to hear from, the first person to have written something to her memory.

_"Allison,_

_ I don't really know what to say right now. I don't know that I'll ever know what to say, really. I never was good with words or expressing what I feel or being witty, but for now, I'll try. _

_ I don't know what to do without you._

_ For the first time in my life, I was happy. I'd found Scott and the rest of the pack, and they'd led me to you. I'll admit, I wasn't all that fond of you at first. You'd been less than kind to the people I'd considered my friends at the time (You know what I mean). But that was before. _

_ Before I knew how strong you were. Before I knew the beauty that you held. Before I knew what you would come to mean to me._

_ So then I fell. Head over heels. You didn't care that I'd spent half my childhood locked in a freezer and you didn't care about what I could become whenever I lost control. You wanted me as much as I wanted you. _

_ When you would smile, so would I. I would smile wider than I'd ever thought that I could. And you'd look up at me and I'd look down at you and everything was finally right. We were together, in every way that we could be._

_ But it couldn't last. I wanted it to, God knows that's all that I wanted, but you were taken too soon. Taken from life and taken from me._

_ I just wish I had gotten the chance to tell you how I feel. To say what you told Scott. I understand why you said it, because it was true, but I wish it had been me. And I wish that you were still here._

_ I miss you so much, Allison._

_ Isaac Lahey."_

Allison couldn't move from where she was sitting. Her eyes were glued to the screen in front of her, reading the words over and over, until she couldn't read them anymore. Her sight was ruined by the tears that were finally flowing down her cheeks. She tried to wipe them away with her fingers, but more just kept coming and retracing the lines down her face so she gave up. Leaning her head back, she looked up at the ceiling and tried to blink away the tears, to stop the flow, but she couldn't stop thinking about what was causing them in the first place.

Isaac. She'd known they had liked each other, and that she definitely felt something for him. She wouldn't have slept with him otherwise. But if he felt about her the way that she used to feel about Scott...

She had to find him. She had to let him know how she felt. She had to make this better, to do something to stop this pit in the bottom of her stomach from getting bigger.

But if he felt that way about her, that meant that maybe he would do absolutely anything to get her back. This might mean that he did something incredibly stupid to raise her from the dead.

Wiping her eyes once and for all, she returned her gaze to the laptop with a new determination. Without glancing at any more of the messages that had been left for her, Allison opened a new window and made her way to a translator, then opened up the Bestiary. The only thing she could base her search on was that flaming figure and the fact that she had been dead. So, finding the words for 'flame' and 'death', she set out combing through the Archaic Latin of the old book.

A few times she thought she'd found something, but it turned out to be something else. The first time it was a fire kitsune, another kind of what Kira was which was interesting, but probably not what she was looking for. The second time, the creature it was referencing was a phoenix. Allison knew for a fact that she was one hundred percent human, so she couldn't be one, and there was nothing in the Bestiary about the phoenix being able to bring someone else back to life (and she hadn't been burnt to death, anyway) so it couldn't be that either.

Hours passed with Allison leaning over her desk, her eyes drying out from the harshness of the screen and the sometimes indecipherable language. She was put into something a trance, constantly rechecking translations and double checking spelling. The thousand page document kept refusing to yield results, no matter how much she needed them.

She was only starting to feel like she should get up and find something to eat in the apartment (surely the Twinkie she'd seen earlier was still good) when she heard a knock at the front door. She looked at the corner of the screen and saw the time, four o'clock, and knew who it was right away.

"Come in!" She called, sure that no matter what volume she'd spoken at the person on the other side of the door would hear.

And she was right, as she saw a small gaggle of people entering the apartment through her open bedroom door. Scott had taken the lead, Lydia following with Stiles at her side, and then Kira and Malia taking up the rear. Stiles was holding a few plastic bags in his hands, which he dropped onto the kitchen counter as he walked through the apartment.

"It really is true," Malia made her way from the back of the group to look at Allison, who had just gotten up from her chair. "You didn't stay dead."

Allison gave her a puzzled look, and when the coyote's expression didn't change, she directed it at Scott. He shrugged his shoulders, then made his way into her room, trying to see what she'd been working on.

"It's the Bestiary," She explained, "I'm just trying to figure out what happened."

"We can help!" Scott exclaimed, gesturing at the others to join them in her room. Lydia and Stiles made their way in easily, while Kira and Malia seemed to be more cautious as they followed, obviously uneasy with the situation and location.

"Can you read Archaic Latin?" Allison asked jokingly, then was suddenly hit with a memory that stopped her lips from curling into a smile. If Scott answered something like, 'I can look at pictures,', it would be too much, too similar to a conversation she'd had before.

Scott noticed her change in expression and tapped her shoulder, giving her a questioning look when she looked back at him. She shook her head and looked towards Lydia, who responded by rushing to her side.

"I definitely can. Move," She ordered Scott to the side, and he retreated to stand by Stiles as Lydia took Allison's vacated spot at the desk and began scrolling through the pages.

Allison moved towards her bed and took a seat on the edge of it, looking around at the group of friends that surrounded her.

"How was school?" She asked in general, desperate to get rid of the uncomfortable air in the room that was undoubtably because of her.

"Uhh," Stiles started, darting his eyes around the group. She could tell there was something they were all hiding when everyone, even Scott, refused to meet his gaze.

"What is it?" Allison asked, this time focusing her question at Stiles.

"Well," He began again, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm as he looked at his feet. "We won't have lacrosse practice again for a while."

"What does that mean?" She pressed, crossing her legs and leaning forward on the bed.

"Coach is missing," Scott broke the news in one breath. "I mean, we're pretty sure he is. They said he was sick but I heard some teachers talking and... he just didn't show up for work."

"So?" She was confused. "It wouldn't be the first time Coach had a little too much and skipped a day."

"It wouldn't be a problem if he was the first person to disappear," Stiles stated cautiously.

At this, Allison stood, crossing her arms in front of her chest and looking directly at Scott.

"You didn't tell me there was something going on." She said accusingly.

"I wasn't sure this morning, there'd only been two people missing, and they'd disappeared more than a week apart!" Scott threw up his hands in front of his chest defensively, avoiding her gaze.

"What do you guys think it is?"

"We can't tell," Kira chimed in, probably to relieve Scott from having to talk anymore. She was sweet that way, Allison could tell. She was happy for them. "They disappeared a week and a half apart and haven't shown up yet."

"Oh," Allison let her arms fall from across her chest, mulling over the information. "Wait, when did this all start?"

"Three weeks and a half weeks ago, approximately," Stiles provided, nodding his head slightly. They'd all been thinking this over quite a bit, it would seem.

"We didn't notice it at first, because the first person vanished just after we got rid of the Nogitsune." Scott was more willing to offer up information now. "It was Rachel, from our Calculus class. And then it was Nicholson, an Officer from the Sheriff's department. And now, Coach."

"So, you're saying that this all," Allison waved her hands around abstractedly, thinking about the timeline, "Started happening just after I died?"

Everyone in the room, except Lydia, who was still hard at work at the desk, snapped their necks as they looked up at her as she spoke those last words. It seemed like everyone was just a little uncomfortable with the fact that she had, indeed, been dead. She couldn't blame them, she was too. She just figured saying it out loud would help make it less weird; evidently, she'd been wrong.

"You could say that, yes," Stiles agreed, breaking the quiet that had followed quickly.

"Do you think they could be connected?" She voiced what it looked like they'd all been thinking.

"Maybe," Scott said, but his voice wasn't connected with the word he spoke. This was a possibility they'd already considered.

"Okay," Allison turned and leant over Lydia's shoulder, staring at the lines of the Bestiary. "Any luck, then?"

"Not yet," Lydia shook her head, not moving her eyes from the screen. "But if there's something to find, I'll find it. I just need time."

Allison straightened up and turned back to the group. Stiles had taken her place on the bed and Malia was leaning with her backside against the top of her dresser, Kira doing the same beside her. Scott was still standing off to the side, and everyone was looking to her for what to do next. Allison was saved from admitting that she had absolutely no idea what to do other than wait as another knock echoed from the front door of the apartment. Confusedly, she looked back at everyone who was standing in her room, and back to the door. She had no idea who else knew they were here.

"Oh!" Scott leapt forward, heading towards her bedroom door and into the hallway beyond. "I forgot to tell you!"

"Forgot to tell me what?" Allison followed him out into the front of the flat and watched as he took a hold of the handle of the door.

Scott flung open the door, stepping back with a giant grin on his face as he made way for her to see who stood on her front step.

It was him.


End file.
